Cassie

by deMora, MariaLisa

  Cassie didn’t move. Still slumped to the side, her arms were already high enough he could easily burrow under them, draping even more of himself across her so he did. I’ve got you. He shifted, found the most comfortable position, and took in a deep breath then let it out slowly, noisily. One breath at a time. Silently counting each breath off, he did it again, and again, and kept doing it until Cassie’s legs relaxed slightly underneath him, the tremors slowly lessening. He listened and heard her breathing change, coming into sync with his, and felt the air in the room shift as Tugboat got up and left, finally trusting that Hoss had a handle on whatever demons her panic attack had stirred up.

  They sat like that for a long time, breathing harmonized as the light in the room shifted around them, shadows crawling along the floor to lap at the bottoms of the walls. His legs were pins and needles when he finally lifted his torso. Hoss slowly wrapped his arms more firmly around her, and nudged at the side of her face with his nose until she picked up her head and looked at him.

  “Hey,” he said softly.

  “Hey,” she responded, just as softly. Eyes red and swollen, she sniffed delicately and swiped under her nose with the back of one hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “Hush.” Hoss frowned and shook his head. “No sorrys.” He waited a beat and when she didn’t continue, asked, “Will talking about it trigger another attack?” She shook her head, then shrugged. “What do you usually do after you have one like this?” Open communication was the best route. He didn’t think they could go wrong as long as she was willing to talk about it.

  She rolled her eyes and sniffed again. “Sleep.”

  “Sleep?” He stared at her in disbelief. “That’s all?”

  “For like three days.” He studied her for a moment and quickly realized she wasn’t joking.

  “What set it off?”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head and she sighed. “No, seriously. I never really know. I’ve learned a bunch about what can trigger me over the years, and do the best I can to avoid situations that will have…” She gestured, the motion taking in the whole of her house. “This kind of result. But it’s not an exact science.” Her head bobbled, and she propped one cheek on a palm, elbow to the arm of the couch. “I was making dinner and my mind got away with me.” That explained the mess in the kitchen. “How did you know?”

  “You called the shop and got Tug. He came out.” He paused to see what impact his words had on her. “I was looking for you and eventually called Deke. Now I’m here.” She stared at him, gaze not wavering, looking as strong as ever. “I want to be here, Cassie. Want to be here for you. With you.” He tightened his arms. “But you gotta let me, babe. Gotta let me in. I have to know what caused this.” Her eyes flicked, gaze going past him and through the archway into the dining room. She winced and dragged her gaze back to him. “I’m here.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be.” Her whisper broke, voice rising and falling with each word until the last was nearly inaudible.

  “Maybe I should,” he countered and willed her to hold his gaze.

  She huffed and stared, then brought a hand up to cup his cheek. He smiled and nuzzled into her hold, liking the way her fingers felt as they ghosted across his skin in a barely-there caress. “I’m crazy, you know that.”

  “You’re stressed and anxious.” He shook his head gently, nibbling at her thumb as it grazed his bottom lip. “Not crazy.”

  “Why would you want this?” She sniffed and swallowed, eyes angled down so he lost her gaze.

  “Hey.” The word came out more abruptly than he intended, but it brought her eyes back to meet his. “There’s a lot here to like, Cassie. And this?” He gave her a squeeze. “Doesn’t scare me off.”

  “Maybe it should.”

  “You want me gone?” It was a risk, asking such a volatile question when she was so vulnerable.

  “No.” Quick, far louder than anything she’d said so far, the refusal burst from her.

  “Then I’m here.” Hoss pressed deeper into her hand, smiling when her fingers dug in. “I’m here.”

  ***

  Cassie

  Hoss stood with her in his arms, turned and sat on the couch, lifted and arranged her until he was satisfied, then rumbled at her to, “Sleep, babe. I’ll be here.”

  I know you will be, she wanted to say. Wanted to repeat back to him all the reassurances he’d just offered her, but didn’t have his courage. The panic attack had begun three days ago when she’d had to work extra on a manuscript, canceling an evening in she’d been looking forwards to.

  Not much at first, just the sharp annoyance of anxiety. More a buzzing between her ears that kept her from resting, but it had then built slowly from that to tightness in her throat, then a full-blown frenzy she couldn’t control. Because of how they made her feel, she’d always hated to take the prescribed meds, so Cassie had tried to beat it back this time, as she’d done so many times before. Her fears hadn’t soared out of control like this in a long time, and as things intensified for her, she’d desperately wanted to phone Hoss, but following a long-standing protocol had dialed her doctor instead.

  The doctor had been out of town when she called, and Cassie had forced a false brightness into her voice as she’d reassured the call service she didn’t need an emergency referral. She’d managed before and hadn’t expected this to be any different. I’ve got this, she’d told herself, as she’d tipped her head back and swallowed the pills.

  But something had gone wrong.

  Instead of helping create a buffer between her brain and the panic, the medication seemed to ramp up her fears until even the memory of them was overwhelming. After not sleeping that first night, exhaustion had caused the feelings of impending doom to escalate as her psyche went from telling her not to bother a busy Hoss with her problems, to the certainty that he’d be better off if he’d never met her. She knew he wouldn’t have accepted a brush off as an answer, so caught as she’d been between an unreasonable terror of losing him and the psychological imperative to be alone, the only solution seemed to sell everything and leave town.

  Thank God Tugboat hadn’t listened when she’d ordered him out of her house.

  Cassie winced at the apologies she needed to make. She’d yelled at the man, screamed at him to leave her alone, threatened him with arrest. He’d ignored it all, as well as every shout of profanity she’d directed his way. At least by the time Hoss showed up, she’d dropped from whatever agitated, manic state she’d been in to a more passive one, exhausted from three days and nights of continued terror.

  And now, here he was. She didn’t understand how he’d known she needed him, but from the moment he’d walked into the room, the earth under her feet felt steadier. She’d felt stable, anchored by his wordless acceptance of whatever was making her afraid. His arms around her hadn’t been confining but freeing, holding her in place with an unstated promise he wouldn’t let go.

  She took in a deep breath, relishing the looseness of her lungs. Pressure on the top of her head signaled another gentle kiss from Hoss, and she draped her arm across his gut and squeezed.

  “Thank you.”

  She was nearing sleep when he softly said, “I’m honored to be here, babe.” His chest rumbled and she smiled tiredly as her eyes drifted closed. “Do whatever you need, Cassie.”

  She woke the next morning before the sun was up. He was sleeping beside her on the couch, arms still tightly around her. Her first thought was to control her attack, only to realize there was no panic. Through several false starts when she was certain he’d wake, she eased up on one elbow and studied his face in the faint light coming in from the kitchen. Even in sleep he wore a frown, brows furrowed so a thin line formed between them. She reached up and traced a tentative stroke along his hairline, surprised at how soft his skin was. She caressed his temple, then continued to explore, her thumb and forefinger applying gentle pressure to an earlobe. His jaw and cheeks were scruffy with beard stubble, and she scratched softl
y, enjoying the rasping roughness against her fingertips.

  He cleared his throat and hummed for a moment, then his chin angled down and his eyes were blinking sleepily up at her. Lips pursed, he stared at her. She laughed softly when he ordered, “Kiss,” through nearly closed lips. Cassie bent to him and brushed her lips across his mouth. “Mmmm.” His eyes closed and breathing turned heavy again, and she thought she’d lost him to sleep. Then one hand moved down her back, over the curve of her ass, cupping where it met her thigh. He tightened his grip and pulled, shifting her so she slid up and across his chest, putting her mouth in close proximity of his. “Kiss.”

  She complied with his demand again, lingered for a moment as their mouths pressed together. “I have morning breath,” she whispered, laying her cheek against the base of his neck.

  “Me, too.” She tipped her head to look at his face, smiling at how he pouted. “This is nice.”

  “My couch?” Cassie grinned as she joked with him, because she knew what he meant, and it wasn’t how good her couch was to sleep on. He’s just so easy to be with.

  “Not hardly.” Eyes still closed, he scoffed and grinned. “I meant waking up holding you.”

  “You like me all sprawled out across you?” She rolled closer, mouthing the side of his neck, smiling when he groaned.

  “Yeah,” he said softly, arms tightening around her. “I like you right where you are.”

  That’s who I am

  Hoss

  It had been over a week since her last major panic attack, and tonight he’d taken her out to dinner. Her tentative agreement meant Hoss spent hours planning everything out carefully, going over the schedule with her several times and then texting her the itinerary. Cassie had nearly backed out several times, and only her dogged persistence and strength made it happen. It had been everything he’d hoped for her. A private room in the back of Marie’s helped control the environment and gave her the confidence she needed to relax and enjoy herself, and having Tugboat join them with Maggie helped, too.

  After the meal and conversation, they’d climbed on the bike to come back to her place. Just before they’d rolled out, Cassie had called his name and Hoss had turned, surprised when her mouth hit his with a heat and pressure he’d enjoyed exploiting for the next several minutes.

  Almost as pleasurable had been the weight of her cheek pressing between his shoulder blades as he negotiated the streets to her house. Now they were inside the kitchen, and she’d turned to him, slipping into his arms as if they’d done this dance a million times.

  He kissed her softly, lips caressing hers as she arched into him. His hand at her waist steadied her, and Hoss stroked along her ribs with his thumb, brushing against the swell of her breast. He groaned and felt her lips move underneath his in a smile.

  Slow and steady, he reminded himself, just before her mouth latched onto the side of his neck, lips and teeth bringing him to the edge of control. Hoss made to pull away, and Cassie’s arms tightened as she uttered a quiet sound of alarm. He stilled and she froze into place, pressed close to him all along his front. Her breath was heated as it gusted across his chest, every inch of contact between them electrifying.

  The memory of how it felt to have her lying beside him circled around in his head and his blood heated, rushing to his dick, bringing it to life. How did we go from zero to this? Twisting his neck, he grazed his lips across her temple and she gasped softly, then quickly relaxed, resting her cheek against him again.

  How do I get more? Hoss tipped his chin and nuzzled, searching until he brushed across her lips. Touching gently, tenderly, mouth working side to side as she shifted to accommodate and give him better access. He found her lips a second time, then a third and fourth, each caress drawing a deeper reaction from her. Chaste kisses pulling breathless gasps that he captured with his mouth. It seemed like the connection he had felt from the first time he saw her was strung taut between them, anchoring him to her.

  Twenty minutes later, he had steered her towards a counter, pairing a kiss with each slow step at a time until they stood pressed against the other, her once again folded into his arms.

  “Cassie.” She tensed, and he paused, not sure where he was going with this ask. Her kisses had pushed him nearly to the point of not caring, because he wanted her badly. First time in forever he’d found a woman he wanted to bed, and damned if he knew how to get them there.

  Hoss knew what he craved, had wanted since the first time he remembered seeing her. Since comforting her in her living room, surrounded by his art in her home. That feeling, this connection drawn acute by the shared experiences of the evening only made it more.

  Even more, going back to the past few weeks.

  The way she had trusted him, seated in the diner, her hand in his.

  Her comfort with him at the lake.

  Watching her laugh and cut up with Tugboat tonight, Cassie’s eyes sparkling when Maggie joined in.

  Her giving him this affection now. He’d not made any secret of the fact, so she had to know, had to realize he was into her. Beyond. Hoss prayed she wanted this to go to the next logical place, but he knew enough to tread lightly. So, heart in his throat, he breathed the words, afraid of startling her or causing her to retreat. “Want to spend time with you, baby. God. I want you, Cassie.”

  Her head came up immediately, and he tightened his arms, ready to stave off any attempt she might make of pulling away. Then her mouth was on his neck again, hot, frantic, but she didn’t stop there. Moving up to his mouth, her lips grazed across his in a kiss he promptly took control of, easing his way across as he licked along the seam of her lips, delving in with a groan when they parted.

  “Stay with me. Please, stay,” she pleaded, and stretched up to press another kiss to his lips.

  God, she tasted as good as he remembered, and he had spent a good amount of time over the past weeks with her in his mind. Fuck yeah. His tongue twisted with hers, control lost to the wind like songs on a ride. Gone, no stopping now.

  They stood in the kitchen where the surfaces were all hard and high, not right for what he wanted. The living room, where her art was, had a couch they’d dozed on together, but he didn’t want their first time to be there, circled round with echoes of his past and her fears. Time to explore her space.

  Keeping his mouth to hers, he slipped his hands down her sides and past her ass to her thighs, lifting. He gloried in feeling her legs wrap around his waist as if she had done this with him a thousand times. Made for me. Elbows on his shoulders, her head tilted, mouth working avidly on his in a way that stole his senses. Pulling back an inch, her teeth slid gently on his bottom lip, and she stared confidently into his eyes, hers hooded with passion. Night and day with how he would have expected things to go, but he’d take it.

  Take anything she gives me.

  “God, baby.”

  Two treads at a time he took them up the stairs, rounding the column at the top and going to the only open door along the landing, hoping like fuck it was her bedroom.

  Pushing it open, he saw an unmade bed, a small pile of clothes on the dresser, a tee laid across the covers. Knee to the bed, he moved them to the middle, leaning far down to rest her gently on the mattress.

  Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and pulled him on top of her, lips and teeth working the column of his neck, driving him insane with the need to uncover every inch of her. Her hand twisted in his hair, pulling savagely to align their mouths. He covered her with his body, hips settling in between her giving thighs as she groaned, the sound vibrating into his mouth.

  Too fast, this is too fast, he thought, shifting to lie at her side. “Cassie, honey, slow down.”

  “No, don’t let me think. Hoss, if I think…” Her voice trailed off as her hands reached up to smooth the shirt under his jacket. “Just…please, let me feel.”

  He propped himself up on an elbow and stared down at her in awe. Still in her jacket and chaps, she was a study of pale skin and black leather, brig
ht hair tumbling around, pulled half out of the ponytail with tugs from his greedy hands. Eyes heated, she looked up at him with desire and pleasure, lips swollen from his kisses. Leaning over her, he lifted a hand and slowly undid the jacket, with her eager help drawing it down over her shoulders. Mouth to hers, he worked blindly at the waistband of her chaps while she finished the jacket, fingers sliding around her thighs to the zippers there, dragging them the length of her legs.

  He kneeled beside her, resting on his heels. So beautiful. Eyes locked on her face, he removed his own jacket and pulled the long-sleeved shirt he’d worn tonight over his head in a single movement. Reaching down, he tugged off his boots, then worked on hers, tossing them off the end of the bed. Through it all, she kept her gaze on his face, her breathing fast but steady, aroused…not afraid. God, so brave. He slipped his hands up the outside of her thighs, meeting at the waistband of her jeans as he deftly unfastened button and zipper. Discarding them, his eyes went to the juncture of her thighs, inhaling the scented promise of passion teasing him.

  Blue satin panties covered her, and already he could imagine how that scrap would slip and slide underneath with his fingertips. He reached out and dragged a thumb across the skin of her leg, up against the edge of the material, and then dipped under to feel the silky skin covering the hollow of her hip. Wrapping his hand around one side of her panties, he pulled and tugged, surprised when she didn’t lift to make it easier. When he brought his gaze to her face, it took a moment for him to recognize and react to what was happening, but when he did, he moved fast to try and stave off the attack. Hoss braced himself over her, trying to keep from trapping her as he stretched out a hand to her too-pale face and spoke softly. “Cassie, look at me, baby. Look at me. I’m right here with you.”

  Within the scant moments he had looked away, she had begun to lock up, breath coming faster, and the pulse in her throat was throbbing underneath her skin. Fuck, what can I do? She’s probably feeling vulnerable, exposed. Palm cupping her jaw, he called, “Give me your eyes, baby.” He could see the moment the connection between them was made, when she saw him again, not whatever was in her head, and he leaned down to touch his forehead to hers. “There you are. There’s my good girl. My gorgeous, good girl.”